


Territory

by TooFazed



Category: Batman (Comics), Flashpoint (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Ambigious Morality, BDSM, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Cock Cages, Control, Couch Sex, Desperation, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Dom/sub, Dry Humping, Family Issues, Light Pain Play, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sub Dick Grayson, Thomas Wayne is Batman, Unsafe Sex, a sprinkle of daddy kink, form of subdrop, kinda-sorta-aftercare, slight power imbalance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25903012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooFazed/pseuds/TooFazed
Summary: Thomas blames it on Bruce. A little at least. Because Bruce saidson, not sons.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Thomas Wayne, Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Thomas Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 158
Collections: Dick Grayson Rare Pair Challenge





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _The Gotham Gazette presents_ : “Thomas Wayne enjoys his new family life!”
> 
> * * *
> 
> This kind colony of bats squeaks: Please, read the tags carefully! 🦇 🦇 🦇 🦇 🦇 🦇 🦇 🦇

“I’m glad you didn’t stay behind,” Bruce says. It’s an uncharacteristically melancholic topic to start while they are watching the GCPD arrive with screeching tires. They have heard the sirens for minutes now, ever since they started tying up the criminals. Soon after, the red-and-blue lights had blinked around the streets of Gotham. It’s a slow night. Has been. Will be. It’s perfect to make sure that the police officers do their job even without a James Gordon around to keep them in line.

“So am I,” Thomas finds himself saying, and he means it. He was so relieved when he first saw this version of his son. Just knowing Bruce survived in a universe that was better than his own was enough. Going with the Flash and Batman, seemed like an invasion. As if his sheer existence in another universe would destroy everything. Dimension travel so rarely turns out to be beneficial. The Flash’s insistence and Bruce’s hope finally convinced him to take the second chance that had so willfully presented itself. “As much as I wish I could have seen you grow up… This is good.”

Bruce’s smile is slight but there. The white lenses search out the expanse of the rooftops. “Yes,” he agrees, “It’s good.”

Despite his son’s words, Thomas notices the faint tension in his jaw, knows it all too well. It’s near uncanny to see it reflected on Bruce’s face. Still, his son says nothing. The quiet never gets disrupted, only the breeze caresses their capes as they keep watching the night - lost in thought, yet fully aware of the other's knowledge. Waiting and waiting for the other to speak words that never come. 

“Hate to be the party pooper,” Richard chimes in-between them, a hand on each of their shoulders, ripping through the quiet tension like a ray of light through darkness, “but I need to go. It was fun fighting with the Batmen.” 

Richard shoots them each a quick grin, sincere words echoing before he draws back as fast as he appeared in their bubble. The taut body radiates a heat that makes Thomas drag a slow glance over the expanse of the young hero’s form, the motion well hidden behind red lenses. 

He doesn’t vocalize the various farewells ghosting through his mind, neither does Bruce even though they are both aware that Richard deserves to hear one of them. Yet, the young hero expects nothing but the companionable silence he is granted by father and son, turning to shoot his grabbling hook with a wave as if to make up for their lack of response.

Thomas glances at Bruce, at the way Richard draws all his attention as the hero pushes off the edge of the roof, expertly twirling through the air as if Gotham’s skies will only ever truly belong to him. He has been praised for making Bruce smile more, for bringing Bruce joy. And it’s true. Bruce smiles at him, but when Bruce looks at Richard without the hero knowing, even the lenses and the cowl seem to soften, vulnerability so obvious that Thomas doesn’t understand why people fail to notice.

All the harsher is Bruce’s frown when Nightwing stumbles instead of smoothly landing on the next roof. Reflexively, Thomas stops him with a hand on his shoulder before Bruce has even taken a proper step.

“I’ll make sure he returns safely,” he says calmly, but his heart is already speeding up. “Agent A told me you have an early meeting. In four hours to be precise?”

Bruce’s frown deepens, and Thomas wonders when his concerned father card will start to be annoying instead of invoking appreciation. This time his son still nods, following his advice despite the apprehension the cowl can’t hide.

He only catches up to Richard by the time the young hero has made it to his apartment. Sweaty skin of the rippling back showing as Richard begins to shed his suit in desperation. His halted, heavy breaths echo loudly in the silent hours of the early morning, and Thomas closes the window with a quiet click. Reluctantly, he takes his eyes off the stripping hero to draw the curtain, properly hiding them from view.

If Bruce follows despite his words, he won’t enter with the curtains drawn. He isn’t that desperate or suspicious yet.

“Thomas,” the near whisper goes straight to his cruelly confined dick. Still, the only thing he takes off is the cowl as he turns back around. His appreciative gaze roams over the glistening skin as he steps forward. He delicately grasps for the now disabled vibrator sitting between the sweaty and trembling thighs. His gaze sticks to the dilated black, only a faint ring of blue remaining. He enjoys the way teeth carve into the plumb bottom lip just for Richard to moan as he slowly pulls the bumpy vibrator out of the sensitive opening. He carelessly lets the toy fall to the floor, droplets of lube following as Richard’s ass spasms, no doubt missing the torturous stimulation his body has been subjected to for hours now.

Nails carve into his blood-red Bat emblem, vying for his attention. 

“Thomas,” Richard begs, looking up at him with swollen lips from all the held in moans he made sure to induce during patrol. The short nails rasp over his chest to his shoulders. His gauntlet rests at the sweaty hip. Richard’s hard cock presses up against the condensed and pre-cum smeared protective cup he is still wearing, triple cock ring barely visible, and straps of the cup digging into narrow hips from the pressure his erection builds. The magnetic nipple clamps still hold strongly to the hard, red nubs. Squeezing them mercilessly.

“Richard,” he returns, lightly teasing along the sensitized nipples to make him moan. The dark of his gauntlets only let them appear redder. He has been able to catch glimpses of them beneath the suit all night, hard edges pressing through especially while Nightwing fought, so graceful as if he hadn’t constantly changed the vibrations the toy was designed to give off right against Richard’s prostate.

“You were so good. You fought so well,” he praises, fanning Richard’s cheek with a hand, “Resisted.”

He kisses him, deep, and Richard presses up against him as if not even tonight could possibly tire him out. As if he isn’t dirtying himself with the streets’ grime still clinging to his suit. Thomas guides him back with the kiss, the hand never leaving his hip, other curling possessively around his throat. Richard goes willingly, barely stumbles, and they part only for him to turn Richard and push his upper body over the sofa, the boy’s ass presented high and his legs wide. Tiptoes on the floor. He squeezes the lovely cheeks, spreads them apart to expose the glistening, winking hole. A groan falls past his lips at the sight, cock pulsing insistently against his cup.

“Such a proper boy pussy. So wet and welcoming,” Thomas comments hoarsely as he tugs himself out, lining his engorged head up with the slick heat they created over hours, that he prepped when Richard asked to be fingered open after dinner and before patrol. “You’ve been waiting for me all night, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Thomas, please,” Richard agrees, already pleading, muscle fluttering against the head of his cock.

With a moan he sinks into Richard’s over-stimulated opening, delighting in the way Richard clenches around him with a helpless gasp. His balls slap against the glittering ass cheeks with the first true push into the pliant but tight heat, his gloved hand clutches onto the black locks to force the boy into a deeper arch. It rips a high sound out of Richard, and he groans in response, feels the parted legs tremble. His boy is so exhausted already.

“That’s my boy. You’re so good for me, Richard,” he groans, watching his cock disappear into the tight heat, hand squeezing the ample cheek. “You like that, don’t you? You like to be stuffed by my cock. Do you want me to blow your ass harder, Richard? Make you feel me for days to come?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, shoves all the way in, hard balls slapping against the world-famous ass. He makes Richard feel it. Fucks as deep as he can as the young hero is speared on his cock, hands scrambling for purchase as Richard loses his footing, gasps parting his lips, toes not quite touching the ground, every savage thrust raising him into the air.

“Yes, please, Thomas, please. Deeper. Harder,” Richard whines and begs, near screams.

Thomas has been hard for what feels like as many hours as Richard, forced to watch, maybe brush his hand along the slope of the perfect rear to make Richard tremble and flush while Bruce was preoccupied.

He fucks all the more rapidly into the tight heat for it, chasing his orgasm, slapping the bubbly butt to force a sharp gasp out of Richard, changing the angle to pin the hips against the backrest to grind as deep inside him as he can, sofa squeaking. 

“Gonna fill you with my cum,” he growls, fingertips digging into the round flesh. Trying to pull Richard even nearer than he already is. “Make you milk my dick, baby.”

“Oh, please, please. Mark me with your cum, daddy.”

He crashes into him, hips jerking against the sweaty skin as he pumps his seed into the greedy depths, teeth showing as he leans against Richard’s scarred back, slowly relaxing, resting inside his heat before stepping back with a satisfied sigh, tugging his wet cock back inside his protective cup. 

Satiated and relaxed, he watches cum bubble out of the gorgeous ass, lube frothing at the swelling edges of the red rim.

“Finger yourself for me, Richard,” he speaks calmly, smirking when Richard helplessly shudders in response to his voice before he does, not moving anything but his arms. Too exhausted or simply complying.

Thomas averts his sight to take the cape off, listening to the soft sounds Richard makes. The labored breath. The slick noises from lube and cum being stirred. His twin guns click as he places them on the table, then his utility belt follows.

“Stop,” he says when Richard’s breathing turns uneven, whimpers starting to escape. “Turn around, stand up straight.”

Richard reluctantly pulls his fingers out of his winking entrance, pushing up from the sofa with his hands on the backrest to turn towards him on unsteady feet, excess lube, and cum drawing glittering lines down his bare legs. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, mouth parted. Gaze glazed with desperate arousal.

If Thomas were younger, he would already feel himself twitching to hardness again. If he were younger, he would keep Richard desperate for a whole day and stuff him with cum.

“Get one finger inside your ass, only one.”

“Tho--”

“Tonight is not the night to be bratty if you want to come at all.”

Richard shudders again, one hand moving down to press his fingers against the burning rim as his other hand inserts a long middle finger. Richard’s eyes fall shut. Brow furrowing with the light stimulation.

Thomas undresses to the sight. To the way, the ringed cock and balls twitch, precum pearling over the hard length when Richard hits the right spot. Not that he can satisfy himself with one finger any longer. Not after so many hours of being spread and stimulated by a vibrator and his own fighting techniques. 

“Stop, Richard,” he commands softly, walking towards him, gripping the jerking cock. Richard cries out, wet eyes staring up at him. A tear pools out, and Thomas kisses him, Richard barely able to kiss back, trying too much to keep still. To not jerk into his welcoming hand and come. 

“Touch your cock,” he mumbles against those sinful lips, easing his grip on the hard, hot flesh for the tentative hand to take its place. “Spread yourself with a second finger.”

He pulls his dress pants up as Richard does, barely daring to touch the head of his shiny, leaking cock, fully knowing he’ll come if he does. His slightly bend legs tremble, fingers spreading his open ass out. More lube and cum drips down to his wrist, then the floor.

“Stop.”

Richard whimpers, legs trembling. Tears, sweat, cum, and lube enhancing his beauty. 

“Show me how good you can spread yourself on those fingers.”

Richard falls to his knees more than sinks, pushes his ass up. Presenting himself to roughly shove his fingers back inside the stretched hole, showing how much he can take and knowing better than to start begging before Thomas demands it.

“Do you want to come?” he asks, turning the water heater on.

“Ye-yes. Yes. Please. Please, Thomas,” Richard begs prettily, fingers fanning to spread his ass further apart. For a moment, Thomas appreciates the sight, picking up his shirt. Richard’s shaky breathing a lovely melody.

“Come here,” he finally says, leaning back against the kitchen table and holding his hand out.

Richard unfurls quickly, crawling towards him. Close enough, he pulls him up, kisses his burning lips, and pushes his thigh against the leaking cock.

“Come on then. Try.”

Richard humps against him, need written all over his face. Nails dig like claws into his shirt. A plea falling from his pretty lips like a prayer. He keeps the wet, blue eyes on him with a hand under his chin. He hasn’t seen them all night, needs to now. Richard’s desperate pants echo through the apartment, tears slipping down his sculpted face.

And Thomas places his lips against his ear, delights in the shiver he induces. 

“Come for me,” he murmurs, closing his eyes when Richard tenses up beneath his touch before his hips begin to spasms erratically, fingers digging into his skin with a shout. His relief spills over Thomas’ leg on command, the shocks are drawn out for what feels like an eternity by the cock rings Richard is still confined in.

Slowly, the heated body grows lax in his grasp, Richard shivering and nuzzling against him. 

Faintly, he hears the heating water click off, and as if hearing it too, Richard drops down to his knees, tired gaze on him as the nimble tongue flicks out to lick the spent seed from his trousers.

“Good boy,” he whispers, means it, and Richard preens.

His hand stays in the dark tresses till the white has disappeared from his clothes.

Carefully, he helps Richard up, then swipes him off his feet or rather his knees to carry the tired hero to the sofa. He presses a kiss to the sweaty forehead as he pulls the blanket over Richard. Slow hands carefully ease the magnetic clamps off the puffed nipples before Thomas can, and he settles another kiss to Richard’s cheek before he walks towards the kitchen counter. Two teacups are swiftly filled with hot water, Earl Gray leaves follow, and then he places the cups down onto the table in front of the sofa. The last thing he gets is the milk before returning to Richard. He pecks the dusted lips when the boy snuggles up to him, squeezing him like a teddy bear and sharing his blanket even though Thomas is clothed and Richard so very clearly not.

“You’re so good to me,” Thomas whispers, carefully freeing the lax and overstimulated flesh out of the triple cock ring.

Richard smiles against his neck even as he lightly jerks in his grasp. “Isn’t that my line?”

“No,” and he believes that. Richard could be with so many people that are better than him. Out on the street and in bed. “I’m grateful for being here. In this universe, with you.”

Blue eyes regard him in amusement, a kiss is placed to the corner of his lips. A hand stays on his cheek even as Richard pulls back.

“I love you too, you sap,” Richard chuckles, then quiets down more the longer his teasing fingers caress over Thomas’ gray-streaked stubble. 

“Bruce smiled again. I…,” the blue eyes flicker back up to his. “He finally laughs again when I’m around. You do that. You give him hope. I didn’t believe anyone could still do that.”

Thomas doesn’t voice his own observations, just accepts the loving kiss. As much as Richard would appreciate hearing about them, he wouldn’t think they were true.

“Was everything alright?” he asks when Richard curls up properly against him once again, nearly sitting in his lap and head bedded on his chest. His body is still slick and hot. “I didn’t expect you to stumble.”

Richard looks embarrassed, his cheeks warm beneath Thomas’ fingers as he caresses sweaty strands away.

“Um… It was just… You know, the vibrations from the impact,” Richard mumbles, teeth worrying his already bruised bottom lip, “It was fine… Really. Sorry that I cut your conversation with Bruce short… But a second longer, and I would’ve begged you to fuck me right there.”

Their gazes meet, and Richard tilts his head, tongue peeking out to lick over his bottom lip.

“You would have liked that, though, huh?”

“Ri–”

“It’s ok,” Richard kisses his cheek, “Me too. Someday, ok? Someday you can just pin me down on a rooftop and fuck me raw.”

It paints a pretty picture. “Only if you’re this demanding then too.”

“Sure,” Richard chuckles. “I’ll be as demanding as you want me to be.” A smirk appears on his face. “ _Daddy._ ”

It’s the thing they don’t talk about. Sometimes Richard will call him Daddy. And it will feel right as he shoots his load into his ass. Sometimes Baby slips out between his lips because Richard is young, younger than even his son in his own universe would be. And yet he fell at first blush. Felt the first true stir of desire after Martha’s death once he saw the boy. 

Thomas blames it on Bruce. A little at least. Because Bruce said _son_ , not sons. Never said he adopted, and his opinion was formed before Richard Grayson was ever introduced to him as his son’s child. Not that he truly believes his reaction would have been different even if Bruce had told him.

No, Richard Grayson speared his heart with a mere welcoming smile. So he kisses those teasing lips again before closing his eyes to relax into the warmth and the safety that exists between them, Richard brushing through his salted hair, and because he craves for his voice as much as his smile, he asks: “Your name, you told me it’s from a Kryptonian legend?”

Richard hums, “Flamebird and Nightwing.”

“Why Nightwing?” he asks quietly, even if his senses concentrate on the way Richard maps his features with calloused fingers. For a while, he doesn’t get an answer.

“Flamebird seemed too superpowered.”

Nightwing, he thinks, opening his eyes to find Richard lost in thought, the slightest curl to his brow betraying that Richard is unsure, that he has doubted his reasoning before. He’s heard people call Nightwing a bird. But it’s not the name he chose. A wing is just a part of a bigger picture, not reserved for birds. Or bats. 

Clipping his son’s wings if only metaphorically should disgust him, but that he is taking him away from Bruce only turns him on more. Bruce has so many people in this universe. Surely, a little bit of Richard can belong to him. 

“What do you think about piercings?” he wonders aloud, his fingers trailing down over his throat to his collarbone, passing a long white scar he doesn’t like.

Richard blinks; ripped from his thoughts. His eyebrows rise. “Um…”

“Two little bats,” he speaks on, pushing the blanket from Richard’s shoulders to delicately brush against the puffed left nipple, “Here.” He moves to the right, “and here.”

Richard swallows, chest rising a little faster beneath his touch, eyes slightly widened. A little nervous but clearly enticed. Thomas leans forward, holds eye contact as long as he can, then graces his teeth over the sensitive nipples, pushing Richard flat to the sofa as the young man arches into his touch with a little cry. 

“Would you like that?” he whispers, flicking the hardening nub with his tongue as he opens his pants. “Do you want to wear my sign, baby?”

“Yes,” Richard gasps, eyes closed, and mouth parted as he pins his wrists down beside his head, pushes his legs apart with his thighs to slip back inside of the heat. Richard whimpers, still deliciously sore. Not ready at all by the way his eyes flicker. “Wanna - _ah_ \- be owned,” he sobs while helplessly enjoying the pain a dick inside his tender ass induces. Thomas smiles, roughly squeezing the other nipple as he languidly fucks into his son’s golden boy, enjoying the way he writhes and cries. Their tea will be cold by the time he is truly finished with Richard, not that the boy will mind. They have tea in abundance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Gotham Gazette presents:_ “Thomas Wayne caught buying jewelry!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback <3
> 
> * * *
> 
> 🦇 🦇 🦇 Added Tags after kinda-sorta-aftercare.  🦇 🦇 🦇

The cool night air betrays him. The smell of rain. Nothing else. 

Thomas angles his head back, humming appreciatively when plush lips settle onto his. Strong hands sweep down his chest then up again to cup his chin. It’s still him that controls the kiss with quiet intensity, Richard following along without a fight. Just as he followed on the dance floor during their first meeting on the gala celebrating Thomas Wayne’s “return”.

“Not going to give me any breathing time today, huh?” Richard murmurs against his lips. Thomas doesn’t respond. Instead, his nail brushes beneath the black mask to pry it off, revealing the baby blues.

“We haven’t seen each other for two weeks,” he reminds, and Richard tilts his head, amused. His hands slip away, and Thomas keeps his gaze on him as the young vigilante rounds the sofa. Fingers are already pulling the long zipper down his scarred back.

“Need help with your costume?”

Richard’s eyes twinkle in response, and that’s exactly why Thomas likes to see them.

“I’m good,” Richard says, gaze sliding over his relaxed form, “Don’t need to dirty your designer clothes.”

The gloves are unclasped, placed to the side.

“So? You’ll dirty them later.”

Richard chuckles, pushing the dark fabric down to his hips – it swallows the blue - then wiggles out. Not commando this time. They both know why.

“Not with blood. And mud and whatever else Gotham has on her streets.”

Thomas could say a lot to that. Richard’s bare skin has touched his Batman suit right after patrol or after a mission more often than he has decided to keep track of. He has pushed his gauntleted fingers into his panting mouth, has wrapped them around his drooling cock, and even spread his ass while wearing them. Just because there was no dirt on them doesn’t mean they were clean.

“I heard Bruce and you met Jason?” Richard asks, sliding into his lap as if it’s pure muscle memory by now. There is a smile on his face that betrays his satisfaction and appreciation. Thomas hums, still leaning against the backrest of the sofa, gaze roaming over the face he holds so dear. He enjoys noting every twitch, every micro-expression Richard makes. “I also heard Bruce was amenable.”

“He is trying,” Thomas responds, caressing through the black locks that are still a bit damp from the rain. He guesses it’s easier for both Bruce and Jason now that there is a gun-toting Batman around that wears red. Jason was slightly skeptical at first, saw a reflection of himself no doubt. By now Thomas is in contact with him, and the things he has heard? Oh, Jason would love that tainting Richard is the biggest secret Thomas keeps.

“Thank you,” Richard whispers. His knees dig deeper into the cushions by his hips as the young hero gravitates ever closer.

The boy worries about his family. Even more, than anyone chooses to give him credit for. Thomas wants to ease that weight off his shoulders, wants to keep him away from everything - _forever_.

A palm curves around the heated bulge that is barely hidden by the dress pants he is wearing, squeezing lightly.

“Getting hard for me already?”

“That surprises you?” Thomas replies, keeping the brilliant eyes in his view as he trails his fingers down between Richard’s spread legs, feeling the barely-there groin. His dick twitches more insistently at the reminder of the tight cock cage Richard has been wearing for quite some time. “But of course, you would be surprised. I’m not the one who gets hard on patrol just from doing backflips and split kicks.”

Richard sniggers as Thomas reveals his confined flesh. The backs of his fingers tease along the underside of the plump balls, feeling out the metal ring as if the whole cage isn’t in plain sight. Richard’s weight shifts. One knee sinks further into the cushions as his pelvis presses forward into his hand.

“Please,” Richard murmurs, raising his arms above his head to stretch his spine, “I'm an innocent angel. I don't even know what you mean.”

Thomas brushes a thumb over the flat top of the cock cage. It’s a sharp design. Black. Utilitarian. Thomas thinks the name cellmate truly fits it. It’s more than a cage. It’s an electronic monitor. It gives him so much control and knowledge, fits Richard perfectly in ways few things do.

“So innocent that I have to lock you away every time,” Thomas responds. His optimism, Alfred described Richard concerning Bruce. The golden boy, Jason flings out sardonically. He isn’t the only one. Thomas thinks he is a lot. To Bruce. To them all. An Angel’s wing. Yet, one wing can’t carry a body’s burden alone.

Richard grins, hands locking behind Thomas' neck. “Don’t think locking me away has a lot to do with myself.”

Thomas raises an eyebrow, leans forward to graze his lips across his boy’s left nipple. His cock hardening further at the way Richard arches into the teasing touch, a little gasp escaping. 

He is possessive. He knows. Richard getting hard from fighting doesn’t trouble him. It turns him on. The thing is he wants to see it, wants to be there, wants to control at what time Richard finds his release. And how.

“Get your boxers off too,” he murmurs, parting from the slick nipple with a kiss before he can begin to accidentally bruise the sensitive skin. Richard obediently slides off his lap to push them off. And Thomas has his mouth on Richard’s balls before the boy can even step out of the pooling fabric. It’s too tempting when his crotch is right in front of his face. Then, for good measure, he pushes his tongue inside the little front slit, fingers pressing into the open spots at the sides, teasing the barely exposed skin till Richard’s knees begin to buckle, fingers tugging at his hair and curling around his shoulders as quiet moans and gasps echo through the room. His fingers tease along the tight balls further down towards the gorgeous ass just to slide over the end of a butt plug. Thomas can’t help but let out a pleased groan. Twists it for good measure to make Richard buck into his mouth.

Another kiss to the pulsing tip leaves precum on his lips, and he pulls both Richard and the tray he prepared, which has been sitting on the low table for a while now, onto the sofa. One sitting beside him, the other straddling his lap again.

Richard is still catching himself. Nipples hard and hairs raised. Thomas kisses him to pull him down from his height, squeezes Richard’s wrists when hands try to grasp for the hardness in his pants.

“Patience,” his lips twitch, “Angel.”

Richard stops with a disbelieving laugh but pulls his hands back onto his thighs with a shrewd look. The cock cage shimmers with spit, pearly pre-cum drops out, and Thomas wants to tease him again, see for how long Richard can endure before he starts to plead.

But Richard already has his attention on the silver tray, and his anticipation turns palpable in seconds. Even his spine grows a bit straighter than it already is. It looks as if he is prepared to take medals of honor. Maybe to him, they are

Thomas clicks the velvety etui open, revealing the ring piercings. Gingerly, Richard picks the metallic jewelry up, rotates them between his fingers. All on their own, Thomas’ hands brush up the naked thighs, squeeze his butt, and Richard shifts in his lap, knees digging a little more firmly into the sofa again as he lowers his weight.

“That’s not metal,” Richard speaks up, fingers brushing over the tiny bats that sit on the bottom of the ring to work as the closing mechanism instead of a bead. Richard has seen the design before. Thomas chose it, then showed the two little bats to him. One red-rimmed. The other golden rimmed, resembling the Bat symbols Richard holds most dear.

“Black Sapphire,” he explains, “I wanted Obsidian, but it breaks too easily.”

Richard smiles. “I like it,” his eyes swim with warmth, and he teases, “Admit it, you just _had_ to surprise me with something.”

“I like your surprise,” he acknowledges. The way Richard lets his guard down with his surprise as if he doesn’t expect little things, at least not from a Gothamite, makes Thomas want to lay him out and worship him - mind and body - and never let him go.

“I know,” Richard smiles, kissing him anew before he gives the piercings back.

“Which doesn’t mean that you can’t say no, Richard.”

“Yeah, I know that too,” Richard whispers, for a second, he hesitates. Richard’s gaze drifts to the needle on the tray he prepared. “Are you sure?”

Thomas places the piercings back onto the plate to drag his thumbs over the sensitive nipples if only to watch Richard’s lashes lower and his gaze return to him. “I’m a certified surgeon, I think I can handle two piercings.”

“Right…,” Richard flushes, biting his lip, “And it’s not as if we don’t know how to handle a needle.” His head tilts. Cutely. “In general, I mean.”

Thomas lets out a huffing laugh, trailing his hand over the naked chest. His canvas for the early morning. “Any other apprehensions?”

Richard’s gaze flickers across his face. His weight shifts on his lap. For a moment, he sits quiet, so utterly still like he usually only gets when perched on a gargoyle.

“Bruce won’t like this,” he finally says. Eyes a little sad.

Thomas thinks Bruce will try to kill him once he puts two and two together, but that doesn’t mean that his son won’t secretly like seeing Richard pierced by his symbol. A mark of ownership he doesn’t even realize he could have if only he dared to grasp for it.

“Is that a deal-breaker for you?”

Richard worries his bottom lip, and, in that very moment, uncertainty laid bare, Thomas finds he needs so many things from him.

“No,” Richard says slowly, then smiles a little shyly, “Ever since you mentioned them the first time, I haven’t been able to get them out of my head. And…,” he trails off, his hands curled on top of his thighs. They haven’t moved since Thomas told him to be patient except to pick up the piercings. Something pleased curls in Thomas’s chest, and he maps out the fresh bruises building on Richard’s skin as he waits for him to make up his mind.

“I want them. I want them both.”

The words ring in the silence. He meets Richard’s gaze, sees the turmoil there, and he brushes his lips to the lovely nipples. Richard presses against him, face flickering, and he licks to hear him groan. He would like to bruise them, but he won’t be able to for a long time. Letting them heal will be a true test of patience. For both of them.

“Alright. I’ll disinfect your skin and then cleanse the product off with clear water,” Thomas explains as he pulls back, snapping on blue surgical gloves, not missing how the Wayne ring presses through. Richard eyes them in curious amusement.

“Sure, safety first, Doctor Wayne.”

Thomas smacks his side because it makes Richard gasp and flush and he always looks good that way. 

“Don’t be a brat, Richard,” he warns even as the mere command reminds him of his own arousal and seems to make his groin burn up. He nearly makes him turn over, lets him part his fine legs across his thighs only to make him hold onto the low wooden table as he fucks the delectable rear only to leave him caught and dripping while he pierces the hard nipples.

“Angel, remember?” Richard grins, and Thomas squeezes his side in another faint warning, gathering up the antiseptic wipes from the silver tray to gently tease across the sensitive skin.

Once done, he places them away to strain the fabric already soaked in clear water to wipe the hard nipples down, not missing how Richard shudders despite the warmness of the water.

“Don’t tease me so much,” Richard whispers, hands brushing over his clothed thighs.

“If you dish it out, you have to be able to take it,” Thomas reminds, doesn’t take his eyes off him as he picks up the hollow needle. Richard’s cock must be drooling by now. Especially after so long in captivity.

The needle is a bit thicker than the rings themselves, and Richard is too captivated by it to formulate a comeback.

“I’ll pierce you now. We’ll start with your left nipple. The needle is hollow, so the ring will be pushed through, understood?”

His gaze flickers back up. “Yes.”

“It’ll hurt a bit,” Thomas warns. Not that Richard ever minds the pain. Not as if this is the most pain, he has ever bestowed on him. 

“Don’t flinch,” he orders, and Richard places a hand on his shoulder. Thomas steadies him with a free hand on his side, sets the needle. Goosebumps flush over the warm pecks. “Breath in for me,” he murmurs, and pushes, enjoying the hitch in his boy’s breath. Normally the motion is sharp and quick, but he knows Richard can take the slow burn. Wants it.

“Breath,” he orders when it breaks through, letting go to not accidentally tug on the vulnerable flesh. Richard stares at the protrusion, faint worry on his face.

“Is it too much?”

“It burns,” Richard whispers, hands flexing. “But it’s alright.” His teeth carve into his bottom lip. “It feels heavy. Significant.”

“That’s good. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he replies calmly, rubbing a thumb along the edge of the dusted skin before picking the thin round metal up. He pushes it through the hollow end, and then drags the needle out, placing it on the tray and locking the bottom with the red-lined bat. “How does it feel?”

“Good,” Richard breaths, and Thomas scrutinizes the hard nipple. It doesn’t bleed more than it should.

“Do you want me to continue, or do you need a moment, angel?”

“I’m fine,” is the smiled reply, and Thomas nods, taking up the second hollowed needle to horizontally punctuate the right nipple. This time Richard lets out a whimper, and Thomas is reminded of the fact that without a cock cage Richard would undeniably already be on the verge of cumming all over himself. His gaze drops down. As expected, pre-cum is flowing out of the slit onto the sofa between his legs droplets all but starting to form a puddle. By now, the confinement must feel unbearable.

He pulls the needle out, locking the ring and after a second of consideration, he carefully secures the fresh piercings with bandages. His fingers lightly drag across the fabric, heat radiating through. “How does it feel now?”

“Tender. Hot, but you know that.”

“And your cock?” Thomas asks, propping the cage up and pressing his thumb into the slit. Richard closes his eyes, body tensing.

“Feels like I’m ready to explode.”

“You _are_ leaking,” Thomas accepts, rubbing more insistently against the very tip, smearing pre-cum over the dark, unyielding material. Richard twitches into the grasp, fingers curling. “I’m going to pull your plug out. You’re going to take my cock well, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes,” Richard gasps, shudder descending over his skin. He pushes up without further prompting, and Thomas leans forward, cradles his tight balls, and sucks at the tripping tip. Richard lets out a high sound above him, and he works all the harder to hear it again. His fingers search out the end of the plug and slowly pull it out. He can just imagine how wet Richard’s hole is, how it opens smoothly for the thickness of the plug, and tries to pulse closed again, pushing out frothed lube with its effort.

“T-Thomas,” Richard gasps, and Thomas lets him rut into his mouth if only because he knows it will drive his desperation higher. His fingers trail over the blinking hole, one pushing in, then two and three when he realizes Richard is wet enough for that. The plug is discarded on the sofa, and Thomas pulls away from the slick flesh, holding Richard back when he tries to chase the heat.

“Patience, baby,” he warns, and Richard stays still, begging with his eyes. He pulls his heated cock out to the sight. The days in which he could get fully hard in seconds without a little touch are over, but his arousal hasn’t lessened. Two jacks are enough for him to pull Richard forward. The boy shifts on his lap, gaping wet hole brushing against the tip of his glans, soon enough engulfing it. 

Thomas’ hands tighten around his hips as the taut heat takes him fully in. Richard stares, helplessly waiting for his command, hands on his neck and shoulder.

“Still so perfect for me, Richard. Did you miss me?” he asks, and Richard answers with a needy kiss, a moaned _Yes_. Thomas groans, rolls his hips, fucks into the welcoming heat. It doesn’t take long for Richard to start trembling and rutting forward no matter that Thomas makes sure not to target the swollen prostate.

“Thomas,” Richard's voice sounds wet, but he doesn’t beg. Not truly. Knows better.

“You want it off?” he asks, never stopping his shallow upward thrusts.

“It’s too tight, it’s too,” Richard breaks off when he starts playing with the slit again, shoulders jerking as if he is fighting against the urge to rip the hand away. Ass tightening around his length in a way that makes Thomas fuck up a little harder.

“Shouldn’t an angel know how to resist such stimulations?”

Richard moans with a jerk of his hips that buries his cock deeper.

“Daddy,” Richard whines, rutting, and Thomas smiles, pulling his hand away from the encased flesh.

“Alright.” 

He kisses the sweaty neck, grasping for his phone as Richard leans against him, pants warm against his throat, ass spasming around his cock in the absence of motion.

“Your body truly doesn’t know any discipline,” he murmurs, absentmindedly. A message from Lucius blinks on his phone, and he lets himself get distracted even as Richard shifts with the words. Caught in his arousal. 

Ever since his “return”, WE’s stock value has gone up significantly. Bruce is a decent businessman when he wants to be, emphasis on when he wants to be, but Thomas was a businessman and a doctor before he ever became Batman. He is more ruthless than his son likes to think he is.

Lips trail along his jaw, panting echoes close to his ear, Richard begging in the only way he knows he’s allowed to.

“You have permission, Richard.”

His free hand stays in the sweat hair, and Richard snakes a hand between them to push the Bluetooth button connecting the cage to his phone. “Good boy,” he says, giving clearance to let the lock slide open. It’s a quiet whirr, and Thomas carefully unclasps it, freeing the heated flesh.

“Does that feel good?” he asks as he curls his hand around the twitching erection, spreading pre-cum over it.

“Yes, daddy,” Richard whines, near sobs as he jerks into the light friction, hand clawing into the fabric above Thomas’ chest as he hardens fully. “Feels so good.”

Thomas presses a lingering kiss to his open mouth and eases his hand away. 

“Show me how good.”

Richard shudders, but he moves up, sinking a little deeper, holding onto his shoulders as Thomas leans back, ready to simply enjoy the show like he so often does. Richard begins to move up and down slowly, but soon enough the strong thigh muscles work rapidly beneath Thomas’ hands. The boy is so desperate to get off that his mouth moves mindlessly around quiet sounds, eyes closed in concentration. His cock bobs obscenely, sprinkling pre-cum every time it smacks against his abs. 

“Such an eager little angel,” he murmurs, squeezing his thighs, and Richard’s mouth is on his again, blunt nails digging into his clothes. He hums into the heat. “You know you’re not allowed to come first,” he speaks, gets a whine in return, and he breaks their kiss.

“Slow down.” 

Richard all but jerks to a slower pace, ass tightening around him. His fingers tease up the scarred sides as he looks up at the flushed face. Dark lashes frame the shining blue. “This isn't a marathon, baby.”

His hand curls around the back of his neck, and Richard stills with a shudder and a gasp, their pelvises pressing flush together. If only Bruce knew what he can reduce his golden boy to.

“T-Thomas.”

“Up, Richard,” he commands, and Richard slides all the way off, gaze flickering. He can feel his hole flutter around the very tip of his cock. “Down,” he instructs, releasing his grip, and Richard follows easily, his voice guiding the slow slide that lets Richard properly stuffs himself every time he sinks down. Richard’s eyes fall shut for quite some time, teeth biting at his swelling bottom lip, eyebrows curling helplessly.

"Thomas I--"

“Quiet,” he orders, and Richard looks so devastatingly hopeless as his eyes rip open, a tear slipping out. He can see what the boy means, knows that spasming. “Get me off.”

Richard tries to renew his efforts, speed up again, but he is too near already to truly get back into the sort of rhythm that gets them off at the same time. His jaw begins to slacken, thighs twitch, and his belly contracts, and he is fighting against it. A losing battle.

“Off,” he demands sharply, watches the shudder his voice induces, Richard staring at him in dawning-slack jawed horror that is overtaken by blinding arousal as his whole-body spasms, thighs contracting. His cock pulses, spilling cum between them even before Richard falls against him. Thomas holds him close as Richard shudders and spasms and gasps through his orgasm.

Thomas can feel the liquid seep through his clothes.

Eventually, Richard stills, left panting against his throat, the sweaty body a tense weight on top of him, and Thomas keeps his hand on his neck, knows the stillness all too well.

“You looked so good, Richard,” Thomas whispers, showing that he isn’t angry, still caressing over the heated skin. It takes another moment before Richard truly calms, breath brushing warmly across his skin before Richard pushes up.

Fingers tease against his cheek. Richard’s body glitters with sweat. Thomas places their foreheads together, lets him breathe.

“Are you alright?” Thomas asks, and Richard nods, eyes still closed.

“Yes. I… I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Thomas murmurs, fingers teasing up his sides again. “It was my command. Nothing you did. And it’s pleasing to know I can make you come like that too.” 

Thomas cups Richard’s chin to make him look up, “Every bit of control you give me means the world to me.”

Richard huffs, tentatively kissing him again. “Thank you,” is whispered against his lips. There is something sad about it too, though. 

“Richard.”

Richard shifts, but, eventually, the blue eyes rise to him again.

“No scene is perfect. Some things go wrong. Not meeting my expectations doesn’t make you any less than you were before.” 

“I,” Richard gasps out, hot tears already sliding down his cheeks, gathering on his chin, pooling in the palm of Thomas’ hand, “I know.”


End file.
